Immediately after Yom Kippur, we begin building a sukkah, a booth. Sukkot is the third of three harvest festivals, a pilgrimage festival and the Kabbalists have given it deeper meaning. The instructions for how the sukkah is to be constructed are very specific. It must be temporary to remind us of the booths we lived in during our 40 years in the wilderness; one wall may be attached to a permanent structure, but all the rest of it must be temporary and made from elements found in the earth. One side must be open so that all can enter. The roof is made from pine boughs and bamboo or other green things through which you can see the sky when you are living in it as we are commanded, for seven days.
Lying flat on the ground looking up, on a clear night you can see a blanket of stars. Maybe not in Seattle, but in Maine you can. No light pollution. For nearly 30 years, every year after my sukkah was built I would lie there looking upward at the stars, at the grandeur of the universe, and with every part of my body, feel connection to the earth. I built it out of things from my woods and it was adorned with things from my garden. For 30 years, during the Shabbat that fell during that week, our chavurah, group of friends, gathered in it to light candles, sing, pray and eat no matter the weather; if the night was cold, we just bundled up more and shook the lulav all around in our gloves, scarves and fleeces. Now in Seattle, I still build it, but materials are harder to find, the city lights drown out most of the stars and as for my old chavurah, those who are left, are in Maine. I created a new chavurah here and it is a beautiful thing, but it’s different.
What isn’t different is lying down on the ground and feeling connected to the earth. The longer you lie there, the more you begin to feel the earth cradling you in its embrace. It is vital and alive.
In Jewish mysticism, Sukkot is the ultimate festival of Divine embrace, where the temporary walls of the sukkah represent stepping out of human ego and living directly within the transcendent and infinite presence of God.
The Kabbalists call it’s roof, the סכך; the Ceiling of Consciousness. For them it represents a direct channel for supernal light to break us out from the artificial ceilings and security of permanent homes. It reminds us of the impermanence and fragility of life.
Sitting in the sukkah breaks down the illusion that humans exist separate from the Creator. It is the womb of Creation The temporary hut acts as a spiritual womb, wrapping the soul in אמונה and ביטחונ; faith and security. For this connection we need no words.
Neither do the trees for they communicate in their own incredible way.
As I stare into the vastness of space, just under the ground where I lie, there a Wood-wide-web; trees connected through a vast symbiotic network, communicating and nurturing each other, protecting and caring for each other. Trees emit and detect sounds, and in particular, a crackling noise in the roots at a frequency inaudible to humans. But I swear I can feel the humming as I lie there.
I had the great good fortune to spend time in the Amazon rainforest; I spent one uninterrupted night on the forest floor. What an amazing night it was lying on the ground listening to the sounds of the night, inhaling the scents of the flowers, trees and earth and looking at the heavens through the canopy of trees that formed the roof of the jungle; what an amazing thing it was to be a visitor there, to be invited into God’s sukkah.
The סכת שלומך shelter of God's peace.
Everything was just as I imagined it would be; alive, wild and damp; the humid air had weight to it. The life energy was penetrating as was the realization that though this was as it has been for millions upon millions of years, in the mere hours I lay there, another 100 acres had been destroyed by humans.
We bring three green things and a yellow, the lulav and the etrog into the sukkah which we shake three times in each direction; shaking the lulav with the etrog across six spatial directions (up, down, east, west, north, south) is a physical act meant to harmonize the emotional and spiritual dimensions of Creation and draw God’s protective energy into the physical realm.
The etrog from the hadar tree has an intoxicating scent evident only when you scratch its surface reminding us that we must scratch the world to find the things that are beautiful, for the things we need to sustain us; it reminds us that we are partners with God in completing the work of Creation, and should not abuse and destroy it. It is shaped like a heart so that we know to love the gifts we have been given, to feel gratitude and affirm our connection and responsibilities to care for the earth. The earth came to us clean; we need everyone to restore and keep it that way. The Lulav is a palm frond, a willow and myrtle. They are bound together to symbolize unity with each other and with God. The palm frond is straight and tall to remind us to stand strong and fight for the earth.
The leaves of the myrtle are shaped like an eye so that we may be vigilant in our protection of Creation, so that we remember to cry for the loss of habitat, extinction of species and pollution that sickens humans, animals, birds and sea creatures. The willow represents a mouth so that we learn to speak out when we should.
As we sit inside the fragile and impermanent sukkah, we experience an existential joy and gratitude realizing that we exist not separate, but within God, God within us. As we sit in the sukkah, we are sitting inside God.
As Rav Berg reminds us, the amount of Light we receive from connection with God depends on our consciousness.
On Sukkot it isn’t enough just to be conscious; we are enjoined to rejoice in the Sukkah, rejoice under the sky, within the trees; rejoice in this fragile Creation, be one with the One of creation.
We must be joyful in the moment and then, we must speak out, act out and educate ourselves so that the choices we make every day in how we live, what we eat, and how we move in our world protect and nurture Creation.
Next year, find a sukkah to inhabit. Then take a moment; let yourself feel the vibration of the trees, the scents and sounds of the night. Engage yourself; connect. As you revel in the sweet scent of the etrog, remember the sweetness of the land, trees, and flowers; as you shake the lulav, be reminded of the Divine force which is One. On this festival of joy, may we realize that though our lives are fragile and fleeting, there are a thousand things for which we can be grateful; let us be reminded of this and resolve to be a force to honor and protect God’s Creation.
חג סמך ושבת שלום